


Think You Can Take It?

by purple_bookcover



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Anal Sex, BokuAka Week, BokuAka Week 2020, M/M, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:07:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25677064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_bookcover/pseuds/purple_bookcover
Summary: Akaashi sees the jock-looking guy enter the tattoo shop and just instantly knows he's going to ask for something dumb.Unfortunately, Akaashi draws the short straw and has to tattoo the guy, but that doesn't mean he can't have a little fun with pushing Bokuto's buttons and seeing how much he can take.He even invites him back for a late night "tattoo" session that might not beentirelyprofessional.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 10
Kudos: 201
Collections: Bokuaka Week 2020





	Think You Can Take It?

**Author's Note:**

> If you just want the porn skip to "he shouldn't have expected..." 
> 
> This is for BokuAka Week 2020! Tattoo shop AU prompt.

“Well... I was thinking of...”

After years of being a tattoo artist, Akaashi knew just one thing: The guy who’d just strutted into the shop was basic as fuck. He was definitely here to get his first tattoo and that tattoo would unquestionably be a song lyric, a tribal band or a skull with a snake winding out of the eye. 

“A volleyball,” the guy at the counter said. 

That was different … but also not really. 

“Did you have an idea of where?” Cindy at the counter asked. 

He rolled up the sleeve of his T-shirt and slapped his bicep. “Right here.” 

It was a nice arm, a damn nice arm, if Akaashi was being honest. But the guy’s obvious pride in his muscles instantly made Akaashi want to cut him down to size. 

Still, it wasn’t like those arms weren’t worth a little pride. He clearly worked out. Dumb jock type, then, Akaashi figured. He even had spiked up silver and black hair like it was still the damn ‘90s. 

“Let’s see who’s available,” Cindy said. “We should be able to get you in today.” 

From the window in his personal tattoo room, Akaashi could see her scrolling through the schedule. There were plenty of openings with the artists in the shop, but she just kept scrolling and scrolling. 

Akaashi’s blood went cold. He’d stiffed her on lunch a couple days ago. It had only been a matter of a couple dollars, but Cindy wasn’t exactly the forgiving type. She was coming to collect.

He ducked down below his window so that anyone in the lobby of the shop couldn’t see that he was there. Still, his door was open. He could hear Cindy clicking around and murmuring. 

“There we are,” she said. “Akaashi’s free right now. How lucky!”

Yes, how lucky. God damn it, what had he done to deserve this?

He was still crouched against the wall when Cindy appeared in his door, her smile about as sincere as a cat grinning at a mouse. 

“Akaashi,” she said, “you have a customer.”

“Evil,” he mouthed. 

Her smile only widened. She spun on her heel and left, but he heard her say, “He’ll be out in just a moment.” 

Akaashi huffed out a sigh. There was no point in delaying the inevitable. Hopefully, Jock Bro was a decent tipper at least. 

He forced himself to stand, slouching out of his tattoo room and down the short hall that led to the front reception area. Jock Bro was beaming, almost a literal ray of fucking sunshine standing amid the black leather couches and dark walls. 

“Heya, I’m Bokuto,” Jock Bro – Bokuto, apparently – said. He stuck out a hand. 

Akaashi took it, wincing as Bokuto nearly broke his hand just to shake it. “Akaashi.” 

“Awesome!” Bokuto started rattling off ideas for his design. Fire maybe? Streaks. No, definitely fire. Akaashi schooled his face to neutrality throughout it all, until Cindy finally came to his rescue.

“I think Akaashi will need some sketching time. Could you come back in an hour or two?” 

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Bokuto said. “I’ll just get a beer or something.”

“No beer,” Akaashi said. “I can’t tattoo you if you’re inebriated.”

That big goofy smile finally flickered. Was he afraid? He looked like a sturdy guy and the bicep wasn’t an especially painful spot. Akaashi nearly smiled. Big strong jock bro was afraid of a little needle. 

“I’ll see you in an hour then,” Akaashi said. 

Bokuto nodded, but his face was a little paler than it had started. 

“Don’t,” Cindy hissed when Bokuto had left the shop.

“Don’t what?” Akaashi said. “He’ll get his tattoo. I am a professional.”

“Akaashi,” Cindy warned, but Akaashi just shrugged and turned away to begin his sketching. 

Maybe this would be fun after all.

#

“Have a seat right there.” Akaashi gestured at the table in the room. It almost looked like a massage table, but with a couple extra attachments so Akaashi could hold a client’s arm or leg steady to work on it.

Bokuto sat down, clinging to the edge of the table, swinging his legs. Akaashi caught his eyes darting around the tattoo room. 

Akaashi rolled away on his chair to start sorting through inks and colors. Bokuto didn’t smell like alcohol, which was good, but he was clearly nervous about the process about to unfold. 

Akaashi selected just black and white for now. The white would be the toughest bit, but if he added some black for the highlights it should work. 

He rolled back to where Bokuto sat, setting the inks on a table that already held his tattoo gun and other tools. Akaashi took Bokuto’s arm in his hands, turning it gently, sizing up the bicep he wanted tattooed. He said nothing, even though he could hear Bokuto’s anxious breaths close by. Seriously, a bicep should not be a big deal. It was one of the least painful spots, at least in Akaashi’s opinion. 

Next, he took the tracing of the flaming volleyball and sized it up, using a bit of water to transfer the design onto Bokuto’s skin. 

“How’s that?” Akaashi said.

He was glad he spoke before looking up because when he did he saw the flush in Bokuto’s cheeks. Just nerves, he assumed, but it was a little hard to ignore the way Bokuto hesitated before drawing away to go check out the design in the mirror. 

Bokuto flexed, watching the design move on his arm. “Hell yeah, that’s great.”

“Right. OK. Then just get comfortable and we’ll start.” 

Bokuto’s enthusiasm withered, the flush draining from his face. But he resumed his seat, fidgety but quiet as Akaashi made his final preparations. Akaashi could practically hear the questions trembling behind Bokuto’s lips. He’d seen plenty of clients like this, clients who wanted Akaashi to comfort them or lie to them. He wouldn’t. Tattoos hurt. That was kind of part of the deal. 

Akaashi got his needle ready, gave the pedal on the floor a couple pumps to ensure the machine was working properly.

When he faced Bokuto again, the guy looked like he was choking down nausea. He was actually sweating now, forehead glistening. But he stubbornly held Akaashi’s gaze. 

_He’s determined, if nothing else._

“We’ll start with the outline,” Akaashi said. “Let’s see how far we get on that today, but you might need to come back later for color. You can ask for a break any time, alright?” 

Bokuto nodded, apparently incapable of responding.

He flinched a little when Akaashi took his arm. He was warm to the touch, in contrast to Akaashi’s cool fingers. He didn’t hold hard, only enough that it wouldn’t ruin the lines if Bokuto jerked away at the first touch of the needle. 

Akaashi pushed the pedal, letting the machine hum. He’d start on a muscle, somewhere that really shouldn’t be very painful even for a client like this. 

Even so, when he touched the needle to Bokuto’s skin, he predictably startled.

“Need you to hold as still as you can,” Akaashi said. 

“R-right,” Boktuo said. “No problem.”

That was a lie, one Akaashi only barely didn’t roll his eyes at. Still, when he touched the needle to Bokuto’s skin a second time, he didn’t flinch quite so badly. After a few minutes, some of the tension melted out of the arm Akaashi was holding, allowing Akaashi to actually get to work tattooing in the lines of the volleyball. Bold lines for the outside, with more subtle ones for the flames and the pattern on the ball. That should end up looking pretty clean. 

Akaashi forgot about his nervous client, falling into the rhythm of the work. This was the part he always liked best, just getting into the flow of creating the art itself. No noise, no distraction, just the buzz of the needle and the soothing cadence of the task at hand.

All of which made it even more annoying when Bokuto decided he wanted to chat. 

“How long have you been doing this?” Bokuto said. “You look young.”

“I’m probably your age,” Akaashi droned. 

“Yeah, I guess that’s true. You have a whole sleeve. Does it keep going? How many tattoos do you have?” 

Akaashi struggled not to sigh. “A lot.” He had a tactic for clients like this, ones who felt like tattoo time was an invitation to drag out Akaashi’s whole life story. “What do you do? Student?”

“Oh no,” Bokuto said. “I’m a volleyball player.”

“Like, professionally?”

“Yeah!” 

That, blessedly, set the guy off rambling about volleyball and everything he loved about the sport and his teammates and his upcoming game and this one time when he scored the winning point and... Akaashi really didn’t care as long as it kept Bokuto talking about himself rather than prodding into Akaashi’s life. 

The volleyball thing did make sense, though, and not just because of the design of the tattoo. The arm Akaashi held was almost freakishly toned, nothing but corded muscle even when Bokuto finally relaxed and stopped tensing so much. Akaashi could see the swell of a strong shoulder where it disappeared into a T-shirt strained by Bokuto’s chest. 

Bokuto was still talking when Akaashi paused, wiping off blood and ink. It was time to get to the more tender bits, away from the big muscles that dulled the pain. 

Bokuto was still talking. His mouth never seemed to stop. But his voice leapt up several octaves when Akaashi continued. 

“Doing OK?” Akaashi said. 

“Yup,” Bokuto said.

Well, points for putting on a brave face, but it was pretty obvious how much Bokuto was struggling not to flinch and to keep his voice level and even. His arm tensed, giving Akaashi a delicious display of those muscles he was so proud of. They felt nice in Akaashi’s hand, in all honestly, firm, hard, really hard. It made Akaashi wonder what the rest of this guy looked like if a single arm was so ripped. 

Perhaps not the most professional thought, but hey, tracing in lines got dull eventually. Bokuto even shut up for a while there, apparently needing to conserve his energy for pretending the tattoo didn’t hurt. It did. Akaashi knew it did. But it wasn’t _so_ bad. 

The silence was a welcome relief, honestly. Bokuto was more attractive with his mouth shut, a thought that made Akaashi want to come up with all kinds of additional ways to keep that mouth busy. 

He shook himself away from that thought. There was unprofessional and then there was _unprofessional._ Akaashi was supposed to basically treat the human body with the same indifference a doctor would or risk losing his job and license. There was just something about this Bokuto that made him want to take a risk. 

“So where will the next one be?” Akaashi said.

“T-the next one?” Bokuto said. “I haven’t really thought that far ahead. I don’t know if I’m brave enough for more.”

“Oh, I think you’re brave enough.” 

Akaashi looked up from his tattooing to catch Bokuto watching him. Surely, that twinge of color in his cheeks was just from nervousness or pain. Either way, something in Akaashi wanted to draw out more. Would more pain make those pale cheeks even brighter? If so, Akaashi could provide. 

“Is that it?” Bokuto said.

Akaashi jolted back to the present. He hadn’t even really noticed that he’d finished the outline, but sure enough, there it was, curling around that supple bicep. 

Akaashi wiped off excess ink and blood, pretending to exam the lines to cover for his day dreaming. They were crisp. Of course they were crisp. Akaashi was good at his job, even when his mind wandered to what else might be beneath his client’s shirt. 

He sat back. “Yeah, that’s it. We need to let this heal up. Can you come back in about a month for color?”

“Yeah, sure, I think so.”

Akaashi bandaged up the tattoo, provided the usual spiel of instructions and gave Bokuto a little cream to help with the healing. He should have directed Bokuto back out to the front to pay Cindy at the counter, but some part of Akaashi didn’t want to send the guy away just yet. 

Unprofessional. Crazy. Stupid. Unlikely to even work.

Akaashi heard all the good arguments in the back of his mind, but he acted anyway. 

“This is my card,” Akaashi said. 

He scribbled on the back of it. A date two weeks from now and the words _Midnight. Call the number on the front. Shop will be closed._

“Cindy will give you a more sensible time to come back for color. A safer time.” Akaashi presented the card to Bokuto. “Or, you could come back at this time. If you think you can take it.”

Bokuto said nothing. Not when he took the card, not when he tucked it into his back pocket, not even when he left to head for the front counter. He’d either tell Cindy every embarrassing detail, end Akaashi’s career, potentially get the whole shop shut down or... 

Or...

Akaashi listened. Bokuto made an appointment with Cindy. One month out, just as instructed. He paid, thanked her and left, saying nothing else.

Akaashi smiled to himself.

#

He shouldn’t have expected Bokuto to actually show up. He shouldn’t have even gone to the shop that night himself. He shouldn’t have set up his tattoo room as though it was really going to get used. He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up for this wild gambit.

His phone vibrated. 

Akaashi didn’t even bother checking the message, merely stopped his preparations and headed instead for the door of the shop. 

Bokuto stood outside, looking up and down the street like he was hiding from someone. 

“Well, well,” Akaashi said.

Bokuto stepped into the shop like he’d never seen it before. 

“How’s the arm?” Akaashi said.

“Itchy,” Bokuto said.

“You better not be scratching the shit out of my nice clean lines.” 

“I’m not.” 

The talking hadn’t made any part of this less strange and awkward, so Akaashi simply turned and started toward his tattoo room. Maybe Bokuto would follow; maybe he’d run. Akaashi couldn’t really blame him for the later.

Bokuto followed. 

Akaashi smiled to himself when he heard footsteps trailing him. He slipped into his tattoo room. The table where Bokuto had sat for the first session was still there, but the tray where Akaashi kept his tattooing tools was pushed aside. Perhaps Akaashi was being a little blunt with that, but he didn’t particularly care just then. He didn’t even bother turning on the room’s light, letting the trickle of illumination from out on the street creep into the room, lighting it just barely enough. 

He turned and found Bokuto in the doorway. He stood on the threshold, that expressive face quiet for once as he assessed the room. 

A knot tightened in Akaashi’s gut. Surely, Bokuto hadn’t really believed he was coming here for a tattoo, but maybe Akaashi had played his hand too boldly. 

Bokuto strode forward, a large step that brought him right up to Akaashi. 

Akaashi blinked. 

OK. Maybe he hadn’t been too bold. 

Maybe he’d been just bold enough. 

“I came back,” Bokuto said.

“So you did,” Akaashi said.

“You asked if I could take it,” Bokuto said. “I don’t think you were talking about the tattoo.”

Akaashi’s smile curled. “I wasn’t.”

Bokuto nodded, as though this was the confirmation he’d been waiting for, as though he’d just been waiting on this signal, like a whistle shrieking to signal the start of a game. In one swift motion, he slid his hand behind Akaashi’s head and pulled him forward.

Akaashi shouldn’t have been surprised by the kiss, yet he reached out for Bokuto’s shoulders the moment theirs mouths met. His lips were nearly as firm as those solid shoulders Akaashi steadied himself against. Bokuto kissed like it was a competition, like they were battling for control.

When the initial swirl of shock passed, Akaashi slid a hand up to the back of Bokuto’s head. He laced his fingers through that jagged silver hair, testing a little tug. 

Bokuto murmured against his mouth.

Akaashi met the force of his kiss full on now, prodding with his tongue. Bokuto let him, soft lips pliant as Akaashi pushed past them while still gripping that hair. Bokuto had gotten that beer this time around. Akaashi could taste it in his mouth. He nearly smiled. Sweet, nervous Bokuto. He was in danger of actually making Akaashi like him. 

They broke for air and Akaashi got to see Bokuto’s cheeks flushed bright even in the dark. He looked good that way, all rosy and flustered. It suited his big goofy grins, all the chaotic energy waiting to burst out of him. Akaashi would harness it tonight for something useful. 

He pushed Bokuto back, not hard, but Bokuto still moved when Akaashi nudged him. It was nice feeling that chest beneath his hands, as hard and toned as Bokuto’s arms promised it would be, but Akaashi kept his fingers light, just guiding Bokuto back until he hit the table where he’d sat for his tattoo. 

“Get your shirt off,” Akaashi said. 

Bokuto’s mouth was hanging open, lips still swollen from kissing, but he nodded, scrambling to get his shirt off. He was almost _too_ eager, too pliant, too easy to direct. 

Akaashi’s complaints died unvoiced when he saw Bokuto bare-chested.

Good god, but the guy must have done _nothing_ but play volleyball. Akaashi was sure he’d never seen a body that actually might have zero percent body fat before this very moment. Every inch of Bokuto’s chest and torso was immaculately chiseled, honed to perfection by whichever benevolent deity had sent this guy to Akaashi’s shop that day two weeks ago. 

“S-something wrong?” Bokuto said.

Akaashi hadn’t realized he was staring. He shook his head. “Nothing at all.”

“Are you gonna … also?” Bokuto said. 

Akaashi almost felt shy removing his clothes after the display Bokuto had unwittingly put on, but he complied, tossing his shirt onto the floor somewhere. Bokuto’s eyes nearly fucking _glinted_ in the dark, skimming up and down Akaashi’s lean body. Both arms and the top of Akaashi’s chest were covered in intricate layers of colorful tattoos, fantastic creatures splashed across a background of psychedelic stars and skies. The ink continued over his back as well, but that’s not where Bokuto’s eyes were. They’d instead trailed down to the hint of inked-in color peeking from the top of Akaashi’s jeans right at the divots of his hips. 

Bokuto’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, actually licking his lips. “I’d really … I’d really like to uh ... to um...”

“Well, don’t be shy,” Akaashi said. 

He almost regretted the provocation an instant later. Bokuto wrapped his arms around Akaashi, actually hoisting him up and depositing him on the tattooing table before working at his jeans. The table rocked a little from the urgency of Bokuto’s hands getting zippers and buttons undone to yank at Akaashi’s pants. 

It was all so quick and so frantic that Akaashi wasn’t even completely hard when Bokuto got him bare on that table, but that didn’t seem to be a problem. Bokuto barely even paused before he got Akaashi in his grip, stroking him so swiftly Akaashi bit back a gasp. 

Apparently he didn’t catch all of it. Bokuto looked up at him, even as his hand kept working, fixing Akaashi with wide-eyed awe. 

Akaashi grabbed him by the hair, tugging Bokuto back to his mouth. Bokuto never stopped pumping, never stopped stroking up and down Akaashi’s cock. Akaashi groaned into Bokuto’s mouth. He was practically pulsating already, especially as Bokuto swiped a thumb over the slickness at the tip and dragged it down Akaashi’s length. 

Bokuto broke away from Akaashi’s mouth. They were both breathless, gasping, rosy despite the gloom. Akaashi didn’t realize he was still gripping Bokuto’s hair until Bokuto started to push him down onto the table. 

Akaashi released him, but didn’t lay completely flat, propping himself up on one arm as Bokuto backed off to start to undo his own pants.

“You’re not going to fuck me,” Akaashi drawled. 

“Wasn’t planning to,” Bokuto said. He shucked aside his jeans and sweet jesus that thing between his legs looked thick. And hard. Completely hard just from jerking Akaashi off. 

Bokuto dug something out of a pocket in his jeans and a cap popped in the stillness. He crawled onto the table, then over Akaashi, who could now see he had a squeeze bottle of lube in his hand. 

“If you aren’t going to fuck me, then what is that?” Akaashi said.

Bokuto smirked. “You said to come back if I thought I could take it. I figured you meant that literally.” 

Akaashi blinked. Bokuto hunched over him, leaning down so close his words puffed against Akaashi’s face. 

“I can take it,” Bokuto said.

Akaashi remained speechless, just watching as Bokuto’s face changed from smarmy and confident to … almost distressed. He was confused until he realized Bokuto’s arm was twisted behind him and moving in jerky little motions. He was … he was actually going to do this. 

Akaashi pushed up a little. It was one thing to tease the guy, but this was getting serious very, very quickly. “Hey, you don’t need to do this, you know. I was just messing with you.”

Bokuto shoved him down roughly. “I want it,” he rasped, his other hand still pumping, still working himself open with frantic speed. “I’ve been thinking about it for two weeks. If you don’t want to, that’s fine, but I--”

“I want to,” Akaashi amended quickly. 

He was serious. He was actually serious. As Akaashi watched Bokuto’s face screw up with pleasure, his cock twitched against himself.

“Fuck,” Bokuto rasped. “C-can I do it? I need it so bad.” 

“Yeah,” Akaashi said. “Yeah, do it.” 

Bokuto shuffled forward. The table lurched a little, but neither of them seemed to care. He got right over Akaashi, then angled Akaashi’s cock up at his hole. Akaashi clamped his teeth against the groan that threatened to squeeze out just from nudging against Bokuto’s tight entrance, feeling him give at the slightest pressure. 

The groan slipped out when Bokuto lowered, pushing the head inside himself, pausing to gasp and pant before grinding down farther. 

They didn’t even move all that much, but both of them filled the empty tattoo shop with their moans as Bokuto got more and more of Akaashi into himself. Akaashi reached for his thighs, gripping the firm, tense muscle there as he tried not to ram upward to finish the job. Bokuto was so hot and tight around him; it made the effort not to jerk his hips up almost desperate. 

Finally, Bokuto sat fully on Akaashi, hands pressed against Akaashi’s tattooed chest, breath huffing hot as he gasped around Akaashi’s cock. 

“Fuck, you feel good,” Bokuto said. 

Akaashi couldn’t manage more than a breathy “heh.” 

Bokuto went on bracing as he dragged his hips back and forth a little. Even that slight motion flooded the shop with groans all over again. Akaashi expected him to take it slow, to get used to the feeling of being full, but Bokuto rapidly picked up speed, soon pressing Akaashi down against the table to ride up and down his length. 

“Shit,” Akaashi gasped as Bokuto pounded down particularly hard. 

Seriously, how the fuck was this guy this enthusiastic? They’d only just met. Shouldn’t there have been a coffee date or something in between? But Bokuto didn’t seem to care about the pleasantries as he impaled himself on Akaashi’s cock and, frankly, that was just as well by Akaashi’s own standards. He didn’t need to know the guy’s favorite flavor of scone to rail him into next week.

Akaashi wished he could do a bit more of said railing himself, but with Bokuto sitting on him and pressing down on him, he could achieve little more than stuttering thrusts of his hips. He could just see himself bending Bokuto over this very same table and giving that tight ass a smack, but perhaps that was better left for another time. This time, Akaashi would have to content himself with the smack of Bokuto’s legs and ass striking Akaashi’s skin with every thrust. 

Not that that was a bad thing.

Bokuto was arching now, head thrown back so his cries could bound off the ceiling of the tattoo room. Akaashi ached to help him, to plow up into him so those lovely little grunts got higher in pitch, but he could only do so much. The tattoo table was already rocking under them, threatening to buck them both off if they pushed much harder. 

Instead, Akaashi ran his hands along Bokuto’s thighs. He barely touched Bokuto’s cock but the guy reacted instantly, nearly yelping. It was a delightful noise, uninhibited, jubilant, loud. Akaashi moaned low in his throat at the sound of it before gripping Bokuto’s cock tighter. 

“Oh shit,” Bokuto gasped. “If you do that, I’ll--”

He didn’t seem capable of finishing the rest of that sentence, but Akaashi smiled all the same.

“That’s the idea,” he said.

Bokuto slowed at that and a jolt of cold fear zapped through Akaashi. But then Bokuto just leaned forward and down, gasping in Akaashi’s face, stroking his hair as he gazed at him with what Akaashi could only term “wonder.” 

Bokuto’s lips crashed against Akaashi’s an instant before he started rocking and writhing on Akaashi’s cock again. Akaashi jerked Bokuto’s cock as best he could with it sandwiched between their bodies and Bokuto whined into his mouth, high and long and sweeter than any confection. 

With Bokuto hunched forward, Akaashi could bring up a knee, get some purchase against the table and drive his hips up. Bokuto cried into his mouth, but didn’t let their lips separate. 

Akaashi drove harder, deeper, and Bokuto plowed himself backward, matching Akaashi’s motions. All the while Akaashi stroked his throbbing cock. It felt just as thick as it had looked. 

Akaashi raised his free hand. There was just one last thing, one last push...

He brought it down, slapping Bokuto’s ass so hard the sound cracked through the tattoo shop.

Bokuto arched up, mouth tearing free of Akaashi’s as he actually shrieked. Akaashi felt his hot spend spilling over his hand an instant later. It gushed out, even as Bokuto clenched his ass tight.

Akaashi didn’t shriek, but he did finally squeeze his eyes shut, grasping Bokuto’s cock a little tighter as his own twitched and throbbed and finally released right into Bokuto’s ass. 

They both clawed at each other, nails digging in at arms and thighs as they rocked through sputtering orgasms. 

Then the whimpers and cries quieted to ragged breaths. The clutching calmed to limp fingers and uncurled toes. The arching and tension melted away to leave Bokuto resting against Akaashi’s chest while they both just tried to breathe. 

They were a mess, sweat and cum sticky between them on hands and torsos, not to mention inside Bokuto. But neither seemed to care for a moment, drifting along a placid current that gently deposited them back into the strange reality of the cold, empty tattoo shop.

“You should probably...” Akaashi said.

“Oh,” Bokuto said. “Right.”

Still, it was a moment before he moved, before he pushed away from Akaashi’s chest and eased Akaashi’s cock out of his ass so he could roll off the tattoo table. 

Akaashi sat up, his legs dangling off the edge. 

“There’s paper towels and stuff in the bathroom,” he said.

“Sure.” 

Bokuto shuffled away, but a trail shone down his leg. Akaashi felt an odd pride in having caused it.

He should have spent the time while Bokuto was away figuring out what the hell to say when he returned, but Akaashi didn’t. So when Bokuto re-entered the room and handed him some damp paper towels, all he said was, “Thanks.” 

“Yeah, no problem,” Bokuto said. After a beat, he added, “But maybe I should be thanking you.”

Akaashi looked up from toweling off his torso to find Bokuto smirking at him. His heart batted at his ribs at the sight. 

“You did most of the work,” Akaashi said. 

“Yeah, but it was mostly your idea,” Bokuto said. “I can’t really claim to be the brains of this operation. You’re a pretty smooth operator with that whole business card thing.”

Akaashi couldn’t help but smile. He slipped off the table and didn’t even bother with his clothes before stepping close to Bokuto. He needed those lips once more, needed to taste this strange, unlikely man again before this night ended. 

It was almost a shame to have to get dressed after that, but Akaashi had already pushed this thing way further than he ever should have. There was still a decent risk of the shop finding out what he’d done and kicking him out, but god, had it ever been worth it. 

He led Bokuto to the door when they were both dressed.

“So, will I see you again?” Bokuto said as they stood in the gloom of the quiet street. 

“In two weeks,” Akaashi said. “For your tattoo.” 

“Oh, right, that. But … you know what I mean. Will I see you again … like this?”

Akaashi smirked. “I guess that depends on how the tattooing goes. Might take an extra session. Or two.”

“An extra session.” Bokuto mused, a grin slowly curling across his mouth. “What a shame.”

“I’m a slow artist. My apologies.”

“Oh, I think I can take it.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


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